The Sitter
by EnchantedApril
Summary: House is going away for the weekend, and Steve McQueen needs a babysitter... Not particularly fluffy... COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

_Something a little bit lighter as I continue to work on 'Three Dates Later'. Although serious in places, hopefully this will make everyone smile. I should be finished with it by next week. All comments and criticism warmly welcomed! _

**The Sitter**

**Chapter One **

It was cold, it was snowy, and Cameron had slipped on her front steps and was fairly certain that her coccyx was broken. All in all, not a good start to the day. The lone thought that kept her going was that it was Friday and since their current patient was on the mend, she wouldn't have to be on call over the weekend. Pulling her car into the garage, she let out a tiny sigh of pleasure. A good parking space. Well, maybe things were starting to look up. She'd get in the office, make the coffee and still have time to sit and read the newspaper while she waited for everyone else to arrive.

Except that one of the members of her team was already there, and looking distinctly peevish about having to make his own coffee. Well, tough. What was he doing there so early, anyway? He never arrived before nine fifteen, and that was on a good day. A year ago she would have been apologizing for her tardiness and asking if he needed anything. Coffee? Tea? Me?

A lot had changed.

A lot had changed just in the past month.

She had thought that they'd been settling into some semblance of a friendship, or at least a decent working relationship. Stacy's presence put him on edge, but that actually seemed to work in her favor. He was more interested in snarking at his old girlfriend than at her, which suited her just fine. She was over him, after all. Definitely over him.

Then they'd had the case of Kalvin Miller, and her world had shifted again.

She hadn't expected anything from House. No heartfelt sympathy, no tender words, no gentle hugs. But she hadn't expected the utter and complete coldness either. The way he barely looked at her, and openly mocked what she was going through.

"_Cameron can do it… wouldn't want to lose any more of my staff"_

She'd obviously been out of her mind to 'liberate' Kalvin's drugs from the lab and take them herself. She'd been even more insane when she'd slept with Chase, but it was done, and she couldn't take it back. Somehow she'd foolishly thought that it would remain just between them. Of course that wasn't even a slim possibility with House suddenly staring at her in the elevator and in the conference room and seeming to just smell sex on her. And of course he couldn't just keep it to himself. No, he'd had to announce to the room that she'd fucked up. The remains of that day were a bit blurry. She preferred them that way.

So now, two weeks and two snow storms later, she was pretending that everything was back to normal. She and Chase had talked. She and Foreman had talked. Hell, even she and Cuddy had talked. She and House had said nothing, but he'd gone back to snarking at her, and she wasn't pulling her punches either. Right back to normal.

Except now she felt even emptier than before.

"Cameron!" House called to her while she was still at the coffee maker, and she ignored him.

The coffee was still brewing and she was still staring at it when she heard the familiar three-beat step behind her.

"Going deaf now? I don't think that's a symptom of HIV, but you may want to get it checked out."

The line of her back, already straight and taut, grew impossibly tighter as she flinched. She reached for a mug, poured coffee, poured creamer, clasped her hands around the red ceramic and turned.

House actually had the decency to look ashamed.

"Sorry," he muttered because even though she hadn't said anything, her face looked paler than it should and her eyes looked harder, as if she had something to prove.

"Whatever," she brushed off his apology, not really believing it anyway. "Why were you calling me, and why couldn't it wait five minutes?"

"I need a favor." He said it with a straight face although he was thinking he would be better off looking a bit more pathetic.

"What? A favor?"

"I'm going away this weekend."

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him. "And?"

"Wilson's going too."

"Ah, so the rumors are true," she quipped with a smug smile.

"Ha." His typical mirthless laugh. "Very amusing, but no." Why he felt the need to clarify that with her when he randomly teased Wilson about it was something he didn't want to think too hard about.

"So you and Wilson are having some manly weekend away. Why do you need a favor?"

"We're going to the monster truck rally in Albany. Julie is not pleased. She refuses to watch Steve."

"Steve?"

"McQueen."

"Wilson's wife refuses to watch Steve McQueen movies?" Cameron looked completely confused and House was hard pressed to find it frustrating rather than adorable.

"She refuses to watch Steve McQueen my rat."

Realization struck and yet astonishment remained. "You still have that thing?" House and pets didn't seem a natural combination. Of course if he was going for a good match, rat was probably at the top of the list.

"Right. I can't leave him alone for that long. He needs a babysitter."

Cameron's free hand was propped on her hip and she was staring at House's face, searching to see if he was telling the truth or pulling one over on her.

"You need me to be your ratsitter."

"Cuddy's not very maternal and I wouldn't trust Foreman or Chase with a cactus."

"Good to know I was first on your list," she commented.

Oh damn. Was she actually upset? House rolled his eyes.

"Look, there is no list. You're the only one I'd trust him with."

Cameron knew that it was completely pathetic to be pleased about such a thing, but she was.

"So what do I get in return?" she asked, already knowing she was in for a weekend of rat watching.

"I'm not sure what the going rate is," House snarked. "I didn't contact the ratsitter's union. How about I give you fifty bucks and act extra nasty to Chase next week."

"Deal," Cameron said, because she knew what she really wanted wasn't worth mentioning.

* * *

No mention of their little deal was made for the rest of the day, and they both fell into their pre-assigned roles once Foreman and Chase arrived and a new patient, a nine year old boy with a long term unknown illness, was referred to them. Snark, sympathetic suggestion, snark, angry look, eye-rolling agreement, heavy sigh, cut scene. The new patient would be arriving on Monday. Cameron wasn't sure if House was admitting him because he was actually interested or because he thought he owed her due to her upcoming extracurricular responsibilities. The idea that he could be doing it to be nice barely had time to leave a shadow in her mind before it disappeared. She couldn't afford to let thoughts like that linger.

After that one brief meeting, everyone had dispersed to different areas of the hospital House had clinic duty, Chase had lab work, Foreman had been asked to assist up in Neurology, and Cameron… Cameron had spent most of the day doing paperwork and trying not to feel stupidly lonely. She knew that it was ridiculous, but she preferred it when they were all working on a case together as a team. That feeling of connection - of togetherness - was one she craved.

Four-thirty rolled around and she saw House slip into his office. Obviously he'd managed to sneak out of the clinic early, but she wasn't about to run to Cuddy; she was hoping to leave early herself. She waited a few minutes to see if House was going to run off again. After feeling the rumbling bass of a Queen song shake the thin wall by her desk, she decided that House was relaxed enough for her to approach.

A quick knock on the glass door and then she pushed it open. House was at his desk, medical journal in one hand and bottle of vicodin in the other. He looked up at her as she entered, and she was surprised to feel herself blush. His gaze hadn't done that to her in a while, but the appraising look he was sweeping over her body was one he hadn't given in a while.

"Problems in paperwork paradise?" he asked.

"No. Actually I was thinking of leaving early," she said, gesturing with the coat and pocketbook she held in her arms.

He actually considered asking if she was all right before remembering that he wasn't supposed to care.

"Technically, when you're sneaking out early, you're not supposed to tell your boss."

"I needed to ask about Steve. Do you want me to pick him up or are you dropping him off? And when?"

"Ah yes, Steve, my main man… well… rat. Wilson and I are leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow, or at least that's what he thinks. I can drop him by tonight. I assume you'll be around?"

The unspoken insinuation was 'Unless, of course, you're out getting high and screwing acquaintances.' At least that was what Cameron heard. When she actually looked at House's expression she saw only an honest question, and she wondered if she was actually becoming as cynical as he, reading negativity into everything.

"Yeah, I'll be around," she answered, a little annoyed with herself.

"Good. I'll come by around seven."

Cameron nodded, feeling suddenly weary. "Fine. I'll be waiting," she said.

She didn't wait for him to respond, and she didn't see House watching her with something approaching concern as she walked out of the office and down the hall.

It was still snowing lightly as she pulled out of the garage and she was glad that her commute wasn't very long and that her building had good maintenance. She wouldn't have to shovel any walks when she arrived. Traffic was slow, with cautious drivers keeping the speeds half of what they usually were and Cameron tried not to tense up as she replayed her most recent interactions one Doctor Gregory House in her head. Her slender, leather-clad fingers gripped the steering wheel and she concentrated instead on the gentle swoosh of her windshield wipers.

As expected, the parking lot and walkways of her building were nicely shoveled and her heels clicked along the gritty salt-strewn pavement on the way from her car to the front door. She checked the clock as she hung her pocketbook and coat on the rack just inside her apartment. Barely five o'clock. She'd give the apartment a once over, eat a little something, and then try to keep herself occupied while she waited for him to arrive.

She was just putting her soup bowl into the dishwasher when she hard a sharp rap on the door and jerked her head up to stare at the clock over the stove. It was only six thirty. She rolled her eyes. Leave it to him to be early. More insistent rapping followed the first tap, and she shut the washer with a little more force and noise than necessary and padded out of the kitchen and through the living room.

His cane was still in mid-air when she opened the door.

"You're early," she told him as she motioned him inside.

"I thought I'd get it over with in case the roads got bad," House lied. Truthfully, he'd gotten sick of sitting around his townhouse twiddling his thumbs while he waited for the right time to leave. "Steve was also eager to make your acquaintance," he continued, holding up the rat in question.

Cameron's expression started out as exasperation, but she couldn't quite keep her quirky smile in check when Steve's little nose started twitching. She reached out and touched the cage lightly to see if he'd venture closer.

"You're still keeping him in this cage? It's much too small, and he shouldn't have that wheel. He could hurt his little foot."

House's left eyebrow made a sudden move skyward and he tilted his head to peer down into Cameron's eyes, which were currently occupied with examining the furry rodent she'd agreed to watch.

"And you know this, how?"

She straightened up and hoped that the warmth in her face wasn't an indication that she was blushing. "My brother was a post-modern Noah. If it could be rescued, adopted or purchased for under ten dollars, he had it."

That small bit of personal information got a twitching lip from House. Not quite a smile, but close.

"Steve's very large and very opulent triple-decker condominium is sitting next to my piano. I didn't think you'd appreciate having it here."

"Well I did agree to watch him for you, didn't I? No reason he should have suffer."

"Yes, well there's also the small problem that it doesn't fit in the 'vette."

"How'd you get it home in the first place?"

"Ever hear of 'some assembly required'?" he asked with no small amount of sarcasm.

Cameron sighed, took Steve's travel cage and set it gently on the coffee table. Then she grabbed her coat and her pocketbook off their hooks.

"Where are you going? You still need to hear Steve's daily feeding requirements and routine," House said, pivoting around and holding up his cane hand, which also held a plastic grocery bag.

"I'm following you back to your place to get Steve's cage. It should fit fine in my car," she said, as if the answer should be obvious, when in truth she was a bit shocked at herself for taking the initiative to basically invite herself over to House's place.

Blink. Jaw twitch. Eyebrow gathering. Piercing blue stare. "Fine," he said, wondering when the tables had been turned. "Good idea."

"Yeah, now let's get moving before the roads get any worse."

Again, Cameron couldn't keep her smile in check when House limped over to the coffee table, patted the cage, and muttered, "Be a good rat."


	2. Chapter 2

_WOW! The first chapter of this certainly got a lot of attention! I hope that everyone continues to enjoy it and please let me know if you do. I love reading all of your comments and seeing which parts you liked best. _

**Chapter 2**

House hated driving slow, therefore he hated driving in the snow. Wrapped loosely around the steering wheel, his fingers tapped out the rhythm of the Led Zeppelin song currently issuing forth from the stereo. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Cameron a few car-lengths behind him in her very economical and very utilitarian Honda CR-V. For an instant he wished that the roads were clear and dry so that he could take off and outrun her. Of course, she already knew where he lived, so that wouldn't do much good.

His eyes wandered to the mirror again. Still there. And he still wasn't exactly sure what the hell he was doing letting her follow him home. Why the hell had he asked her to rat-sit in the first place? He should have just left the rodent with an extra bowl of food and a spare waterbottle. Hell, he could have avoided the whole situation by not playing stalker at Stacy's house and trapping the rat in the first place.

The CD switched to a slower ballad and he quickly skipped over it and turned the volume up as he told himself that he was doing it for Steve. Yeah. Right. He could lie to himself about his motivations, but that didn't change them. Asking her for a favor had been his way of making up for acting like a bastard to her. It was a crappy way to apologize, but it was his way.

He sighed, checked the mirror and turned the volume up another notch. Maybe he really did need therapy if he was reduced to using animals to help him deal with women.

Two cars back, Cameron let out her own sigh. She had to be either certifiable or disgustingly obliging to have agreed to rat sit in the first place, nevermind traipsing off in a snowstorm to get a better cage. Here she was, letting House take advantage of her. Again. Yes, definitely certifiable.

And yet, she knew that wasn't really true. She knew House well enough to read between the lines, and she knew that this little assignment wasn't really so much a job as an olive branch. Of course if she told anyone else that theory, they'd probably laugh their asses off, which was why she kept it close to her heart instead.

He didn't love her. She accepted that. She also accepted that she couldn't completely shut off her feelings for him. She'd become comfortable with the recent adjustment in their relationship that left them as tentative friends, and she'd been upset when he'd retreated to his former misanthropic behavior with a side order of cruel tossed in on top. If this was his attempt to get them back to where they'd been, then she'd take it. She still wouldn't be happy, but at least she'd be happier, and frankly, that was all she could ask for at the moment.

They both pulled up in front of House's townhouse, and Cameron was the first one out of her car. She stepped lightly through the fallen snow and dashed to the front door, waiting patiently as House limped over to join her.

"I hope you aren't taking that car to Albany," Cameron remarked as House slipped the key into the door.

"No, Wilson's borrowing Julie's car. Some behemoth of an SUV. Probably be more fuel efficient to pay to have Grave Digger pick us up."

Cameron remembered the enormous black and green truck and laughed lightly. It was nice to have House joking instead of tossing barbs at her. She'd become adept at deflecting them, but it was wearisome work.

The heavy wood door swung open and House grunted and gave her back a quick pat by way of ushering her in. He followed and then watched her shake her head, sending crystalline flakes in a gentle arc to land as water droplets on the oak floor.

"Sorry, I'm dripping all over."

House gave her a slightly withering look. "Try to remember who you're talking to," he said. "Do I look like I care if you leave a puddle?"

Cameron smiled, although there was no real humor behind it. "Sorry. Forgot that politeness isn't something you do."

"Damn straight," he replied, and brushed past her, his own footsteps leaving an icy trail.

The living room seemed to have been rearranged a bit since she'd last seen it, but the most noticeable change was definitely the large cage which sat on a metal stand in the crook of House's grand piano. Apparently Steve McQueen was a music aficionado. He was also, seemingly fond of the color pink, since the plastic base of his cage was a rather bright shade of it.

"Nice cage," she said, with a bit of a smile. "Very bright."

House smirked. "Steve is very secure in his masculinity."

Cameron had to laugh at that, and even House chuckled, although he turned it into a cough.

"The black with red flames was on back-order," he quipped.

"Ah, well that explains it." She was bent over, eyeing the cage and sizing it up. "I don't think I need the stand," she said, "and the cage should fit fine in the back of my car." She stood back up. "So food, exercise, what do you need to tell me?" she asked, snapping into professional mode as if she'd suddenly realized how very unprofessional it was for her to be crouched in his apartment laughing and joking with him.

"He gets a bowl of the plain rat pellets and then a little scoop of the canned treat food."

"You know he doesn't really need the treat."

"He likes the treat," House replied.

The corner of Cameron's mouth tilted upwards. "Okay, one bowl and one scoop."

"Are you going to be able to get him into this cage?" Now House was sizing _her_ up.

"I handle blood and guts on a daily basis, and you think I'm afraid of touching a rat?"

"Girls do tend to be… girlie."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine." She looked from the cage to the door. "I will need you to get the doors for me though."

"You can carry that?" House was looking at her doubtfully.

Cameron gave him one of her seldom-used hard stares. "I'm stronger than I look. Now get the door before I change my mind about the whole thing," she said, all the while knowing that of course she wouldn't change her mind.

The snow was coming down harder, and it sparkled in the dark sky, faintly lit by the streetlamps. House limped beside Cameron, his cane leaving perfect circles in pristine white. He pulled the rear hatch open for her and she slid the cage inside, happy to see that it fit with a few inches to spare.

"So," Cameron said, stepping back and closing the door with a bang and a shower of snowflakes. "Picking him up on Sunday? Or Monday?"

"Yeah… Sunday," House replied. He hadn't been thinking that far ahead. "Monday if we get back late. I'll call." His words were clipped.

"Okay. Well, whenever. Doesn't really make a difference." She had shoved her hands in her pockets and was shifting a bit from one foot to the other, snowflakes landing and clinging to her hair and eyelashes.

"Right."

"Right." Did he want to say something else? He was looking at her almost searchingly, or was that only her wishful thinking? "Well, have a good time," she said finally, toes beginning to feel the bite of cold.

House gave a sharp nod, feeling like he was certainly supposed to say something to her… to use real words and voice real feelings instead of speaking in this code of favors.

"Thanks," was all he ended up saying. "Make sure Steve's in bed by nine."

Cameron tossed a soft smile over her shoulder as she turned away. She hadn't really expected anything more substantial. "I'll do that," she told him.

She got in her car and headed off, glancing back through wire cage and frosty window to see a tall man leaning on a cane and standing in the snow. He was still there when she turned the corner and she couldn't help but wonder if he'd thought of something else to say.

While driving back to her apartment, Cameron had some quality time to reflect on what else House might have wanted to tell her. An actual apology would have been a good start, but she knew better than to expect that. In a moment of weakness she briefly thought of him actually displaying some sort of emotion towards her. Maybe even asking how she was doing on her drug cocktail of assorted antiviral medications before saying something supportive andreassuring.

She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. He'd probably just wanted to remind her that Steve liked to sleep with a nightlight on.

But the expression on his face hadn't looked rat-related, and she could still see him watching her drive away. It had been one of the more un-House-like things she'd witnessed. Her hands clenched and she sighed in exasperation. Trying to figure him out was worse than puzzling through a Rubik's cube, and unfortunately he didn't have any stickers that she could rearrange when she got too frustrated.

The roads were slippery and her car slid a bit as she took the last turn onto her street. Steve's cage rattled as it rocked against the rear window, and Cameron looked over her shoulder to make sure it wasn't in danger of tipping over. Nope. Still standing. She smiled thinking about House picking out the biggest cage he could find. At least she'd been right about one thing. He definitely had a heart.

Thankfully the spot nearest the front door was still vacant, with just a dusting of snow to show she'd recently left it. She got out of the car and carefully made her way around to the back where she opened the hatch. She managed to lift the cage out and slam the hatch closed with a well-placed swing of her hips. For once she was glad it opened to the side.

Like the roads, the sidewalk was slippery as well. The salt had taken care of some of the new snowfall, but Cameron was still cautious as she walked to the door. She had to put the cage down in order to open it, but once inside the building it was only a couple of minutes before she was at her own door.

"Well hello there, Steve," she said as she entered and looked over towards her rodent roommate. "I've brought your castle, so you'd better be good about going into it."

She kicked the door closed, carried the cage into the living area and put it down on the table next to Steve's current accommodations. Steve immediately went to the side of the cage and sniffed towards his usual home.

"Ah. I see you recognize it. Good," Cameron said as she slipped off her coat and gloves. She only felt slightly ridiculous talking to the rat.

The fact that House had worried about her ability to handle Steve made her laugh under her breath. She'd been forced to hold more than her fair share of creeping, crawling, slithering creatures in her youth. One relatively calm-looking rat was a piece of cake. She knew House had only had him for a little over a month, but he certainly wasn't skittish, and she continued talking to him while she opened his large cage in preparation for the transfer.

"Okay, you'd better be good. You bite me and I'm going to sue your father for everything but his cane. Keep that in mind," she said sternly as she slipped open the clasp on the smaller cage. Giving Steve a long look, she decided that perhaps it was better to be safe than sorry. She went and grabbed her gloves from her coat pockets and tugged them on before opening the cage door.

"Now, just be a good boy. I know you'll be much happier in the other cage," she told him soothingly, while telling herself that House really owed her for reducing her to baby-talking a rat.

Steve seemed to understand her words however, because he only ran around the cage once before allowing himself to be caught. Cameron was very gentle; picking him up by the base of his tail and quickly scooping the other hand under his belly. She couldn't resist a little nose-to-nose touch before depositing him in his more comfortable and roomy quarters.

"Thank you for not chewing my face off," she commented as she closed the cage door.

Steve stood on his hind legs and sniffed up at her as if thanking her for moving him. Then he scurried around in his soft bedding-- the recycled paper type, Cameron noticed with a grin at the idea that House had actually researched which kind was best-- before digging out a toy and giving it a toss. Cameron laughed when she saw what it was: an empty Vicodin bottle.

"Like father, like son, eh?"

She spent the next few minutes moving his food bowl and water bottle to the bigger cage, and then putting the small cage into the closet and out of the way. Steve could stay in the place of honor on the coffee table. He'd probably be more amusing than anything on television.

While Steve munched on his food and ran a few laps in his solid plastic, non-foot-injuring wheel, Cameron got herself ready for bed. It wasn't quite nine o'clock but it felt much later to her. The medications she was forced to take made her feel much worse than she had anticipated, and by the end of each day she just wanted to sleep. Wilson had asked her how she was doing on them, and she had smiled weakly and told him she was fine. He'd looked apologetic for asking and hadn't brought it up again. Now, almost two weeks later, she wished she'd been more honest. No one else at the hospital had spoken a word about it since those first few days, and it was hard for her to admit that she wouldn't have minded talking to someone about it.

Actually, someone had mentioned it. Frequently. House. His remark about hearing loss not being a symptom of HIV hadn't been his first jab. Maybe he thought that mocking the possibility that she could be sick would somehow make it less likely. Maybe he considered them jokes and thought she would appreciate him not taking it too seriously. Maybe he wasn't the bastard he so often appeared to be.

Cameron sighed and swallowed down her last pills of the day. She knew she wasn't being quite fair to him; not that fairness was a trait he particularly admired. He cared. He was just extremely poor at translating that sentiment into words or actions that weren't laced with sarcasm.

With hair pulled back and face scrubbed clean, Cameron left the bathroom and padded around her bedroom, pulling back the covers on her bed and depositing her dirty clothes in the hamper. She went back to the living room to check on Steve on more time and double-check the door, although she was certain she had locked it.

Steve was busy scattering his bedding everywhere but when Cameron approached the cage he stopped and peered up at her curiously.

"Yeah, I'm not the one who usually plays your lullaby. Sorry, my singing voice isn't very good," Cameron said, poking the tip of her index finger through the cage bars so that Steve could sniff it. "You going to be all right out here or should I bring you into the bedroom with me?" she asked.

Truthfully the sounds of him scurrying around had put her at ease. Her apartment was so quiet at night. So lonely. Steve's whiskers tickled her fingertip and she gave him a small smile before withdrawing her hand. He'd be fine in the living room, and she needed to stop being so damn melancholy.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said as she turned towards the bedroom, shutting off the light as she passed. "Sweet dreams."

Steve just stared after her, but his face held a very sympathetic expression. For a rat.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry that it took so long to get this chapter out! Hopefully everyone is still enjoying the story. Let me know what you think, and please pass along any criticism especially. _

**Chapter 3**

Thick clouds hung low over Princeton, all night long, covering the college town in a thick blanket of snow and announcing that winter had truly begun. The last snowfall had faded away in a week of sunshine, but this snow would be on the ground until March. Just before dawn, the clouds began to part, shifting and rolling until they had dissipated completely, leaving the sun to rise and turn ice into sparkling diamonds.

Sunshine and reflected light poured into Cameron's bedroom and she rolled over and threw one arm across her eyes to block it out. Too late; she was already awake. Blinking the sleep away, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked out the window and into a clean white world. She slipped out of bed and went to get a closer look, admiring the way the snow clung to every tree branch and coated every house.

Her warm breath left a fog on the window and she swept it away with the side of her hand, feeling like a child again and remembering long-distant days when the first real snowfall meant sledding and snowball fights and warm hot chocolate after being forced back inside. Hers had not been a perfect childhood, and those moments of innocent joy were the ones she tried hardest to remember. She'd always thought that she'd be making her own happy memories by now. Strange how things never turned out the way she planned.

Turning from the window with a sigh, she grabbed her robe from the chair in the corner and slid her feet into a pair of well-worn slippers. Time to take care of the rat. Sadly enough, babysitting him was going to make this weekend considerably more interesting than most.

"Ready for breakfast, Steve?" she called out as she scuffed down the hall. If you're good, I'll give you part of my bagel."

She entered the living room and knew immediately that something was wrong. It was far too quiet. She hurried over to the cage and felt her blood drain from her face. He was gone. No. That was impossible.

"Steve?" She rattled the cage, expecting him to emerge from under the bedding, or from the little house in the corner or the soft pouch on the third level. Cameron's heart was pounding. How the hell could she be getting so upset about a rat? And how had he gotten out? The door was still locked!

That was when she noticed the twist-tie; or rather, the remains of the twist-tie. It was still partially wound around the top bar of the cage, and she remembered that it had been holding the roof of the cage closed. The damn rat had escaped by chewing his way to freedom.

Damn. Damn! How could this be happening? And who used twist-ties to secure rat cages, anyway? House, that's who! It was all his fault. No way could he blame this on her.

But of course, that didn't matter, because she would blame herself.

She quickly opened up the front door of the cage, in case Steve wandered back, and then she dropped to her hands and knees and started looking under all the furniture, calling his name out and feeling like a complete idiot, because what kind of rat answered to his name? Not under the sofa. Not under the chair. Not under the end-table, or the bookcase, or behind the standing lamp. Nearly breathless, she rose to her feet and scanned the area, then started pulling the cushions off the sofa and chair and moving the books on the bookcase, looking behind and under everything that wasn't nailed down.

Nothing.

Next stop: kitchen.

"Ste-eve," she sing-songed as she slowly made her way into the room, looking on the counters for tell-tale crumbs, and tilting her head to glance under the table.

She was half-way through tearing her cupboards apart when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she practically shouted into the receiver.

"Good morning to you, too, Pollyanna. What? Did Steve keep you up all night?"

"Wh-what? No! No, he was fine." Why was House calling her? "Did you want to talk to him?" she asked, schooling her voice to what she hoped was an approximation of his snarkiest tone.

"No, just checking to see how the slumber party went. I'm sure he's enjoying breakfast by now. Little Jimmy forgot to go before we left, so now we're at a rest-stop just over the border."

"So now you don't think I can take care of a rat?" Cameron accused, defensively, despite the fact that apparently she _couldn't._

"Of course not," House replied. He was surprised by her vehemence, and they were both surprised by the fact that his voice sounded almost gentle.

There was silence over the line for nearly a minute until House spoke again.

"So, no nightmares last night?" he asked, voice low.

Cameron didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "No, I'd say he had a fine night."

"I meant you."

Her slow breathing was the only sound that met his ears.

"You haven't been sleeping well."

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are."

"I am," she insisted, feeling less fine by the second.

"No you aren't," he said firmly. Then, more gently, "But you will be."

"Yeah," she replied, unconvincingly. "Why are you--" she shook her head although he couldn't see it. "What are you--" She released a loud sigh. "You haven't even--"

"I don't apologize." House cut in on her rambling, and it was obvious that his statement meant the opposite of its literal definition. They were silent as that realization settled in. "It's been a hell of a long two months," he finally said, as if that explained everything.

Cameron had dropped down into one of the kitchen chairs and was cradling her forehead in her hand. "Yeah. It has." She didn't have the energy to say any more.

"Take care of my rat," House snapped back into his usual persona.

"Right," Cameron replied, feeling her stomach fall to somewhere in the vicinity of her heels.

"I'll call tomorrow," House told her, and then hung up before she could reply.

She set the phone on the table and used both hands to hold up her head. He was finally acting like a human being, and now she was going to have to tell him that she'd lost his rat. Perfect.

Five minutes of sitting in silence, staring at the top of her kitchen table, failed to make Steve materialize. All she could think about was the how House was going to react. Sure, he'd probably start out raving, move on to snark, and then concentrate on just insulting her, but she knew that his insults would have as much to do with hiding his own hurt as with mocking her apparently poor rat-sitting abilities. He might then brush it off saying that Steve was a wild rat anyway and not a pet and that he was planning on releasing him anyway, but she would know the truth. He hadn't spent an exorbitant amount of money on a king-sized cage for a rat he intended to set free into a cold New Jersey winter.

He'd probably accuse her of being the sentimental one.

Then he'd mention the incident at every opportunity just to see if she'd cry over it.

So much for getting back to their fairly comfortable, if strained, camaraderie. She had already told herself a hundred times not to hope for anything more than that. She'd better finally do so, because there was no way he was going to want anything more than professional courtesy after this. Hell, she'd be lucky if he didn't stick her with the crap jobs he currently reserved for Chase. Chase. Great. There was something else she didn't want to think about.

Wearily, Cameron rose to her feet and started putting her cabinets back in order. She didn't want to think anymore, and keeping busy was the best remedy. After putting everything away, she went to the closet and dragged out Steve's smaller cage. She put it on the floor in the corner of the kitchen and then scattered some of his treat food around and in it, along with a handful of yogurt covered raisins, the only thing close to junk food that she kept in the house.

The living room looked as if a small hurricane had passed through it. A five foot, five inch, brunette hurricane, to be exact. With ridiculously hopeful eyes, she checked the cage one more time. Still empty. Her arms and legs felt like dead-weight as she pulled the room back together, replacing the books on their shelves, putting the cushions back on the furniture and settling the small assortment of knick-knacks back in their places.

She knew she needed to eat something, and a shower would probably be a good idea as well. Instead she lowered herself to the sofa and sank into its welcoming embrace. With her head tilted back, she stared up at the ceiling for a few quality minutes of self-recrimination. Eventually, her neck got sore and she rolled her head forward to be greeted by the site of Steve's depressingly empty cage. He was out somewhere reenacting scenes from "The Great Escape" while she contemplated how to tell House that he was gone.

Tears formed a film over her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She was not going to cry. Not over a rat. Not over House. Not over something that probably never would have amounted to anything anyway.

She was concentrating so hard on staring straight ahead that she almost missed the shadow of grey that flashed at the corner of her eye. She didn't have time to do more than register movement before the grey blur had moved up the arm of the sofa, across the back cushions, up her shoulder and under her hair.

If she had been a more girlie sort of woman, she probably would have screamed, reached up and flung Steve McQueen against the wall, ending his triumphant return scene in a most untimely death. Luckily for all concerned, Allison Cameron was made of sterner stuff than that.

Her scream was kept at a mild shriek and she barely moved. Honestly, she was half-petrified that any undue movement would send the furry little creature back to parts unknown. She felt the prickle of little toenails along the neckline of her robe, and then the insistent sniffing of a tiny nose at the back of her ear. Fine whiskers tickled her skin and as her heart rate returned to something close to normal she slowly reached up and gently plucked Steve from his comfortable little perch.

Once he was actually in her hands, and her eyes had checked every inch of him for possible injury, she quickly put him back into his cage, locked the front door and piled her dictionary, her _Grey's Anatomy_, and her world atlas on top of it. Her relief was palpable, draining her body of its adrenaline rush, sending a tingling sensation through her fingers, and a prickling sensation along her scalp. She fell back onto the sofa and just stared at Steve, happily running around in his wheel as if nothing had happened.

The laughter that bubbled up from her chest was completely involuntary, but she was helpless to prevent it from spilling out of her mouth. It seemed to echo off the walls, and back to her ears triggering even more laughter, until her eyes were squeezed shut and her cheeks aching. The laughter died down slightly and she opened her eyes to look at Steve again, surprised to feel the wetness of tears clinging to her lashes, and although the last of that semi-hysterical laughter spun out, her shoulders continued to shake. Her thin frame seemed wholly inadequate to have ever contained the emotions currently wracking it as a stream of tears led into sobs that had her holding herself and rocking back and forth.

They were sobs that had little to do with a grey rat and his miraculous reappearance and everything to do with the rest of her life. Flashes of childhood and college and marriage and death were swirled together with House and monster trucks and a date that never should have happened. There were images of House, bent and grey, staring into a dimly lit hospital room, at a lost loveand memories of her heart breaking when it had no right to. More memories of her husband and lives only half-lived, hers and his both, and the overarching but continually denied possibility that this short span was all she was to be allowed. That her life could effectively be over and she couldn't think of a single thing that had gone exactly as she'd planned. That a life spent trying so hard to be good and helpful and truthful and kind could amount to nothing more than a handful of inconsequential memories and a flood of tears.

She curled her feet up beneath herself as her burning throat and empty eyes signaled the end of her breakdown. Slumping to one side, she rested her head on a throw pillow shoved against the arm of the sofa. Her eyelids felt gritty and swollen as she blinked slowly and watched Steve run up and down the ramps in his cage. The sound was soothing to her ears. At least it wasn't silence. At least she didn't have to listen to her ragged breathing all alone.

After a few minutes, Cameron sat up and swept her hand through her hair. She took a deep breath and noted that Steve's food bowl was nearly empty. His food was in the kitchen and she went to get it, noticing that she felt lighter than she'd expected to. Her chest wasn't heavy and her stomach wasn't twisted into a Gordian knot.

Taking the broom out of the closet, she swept up the scattered rat food and raisins, and then tucked the cage out of the way again. There. Clean and neat again.

Steve's bag of food was hanging on the back of her chair and she picked it up as she walked into the living room. Time for breakfast. Maybe she'd take a shower and even eat a little something herself.

A frantic scattering of bedding greeted Cameron as she approached Steve's cage. Apparently he had a pretty good idea of what she had in her hand. His hopeful little face pulled a tiny crooked smile out of Cameron and she knelt next to the coffee table and stared at him for a minute before reaching for the cage door.

"Oh yeah, sure, now you're happy to see me. If you'd just stayed in the cage in the first place you would have had breakfast an hour ago. Of course your father never does anything the easy way either, so I guess I know where you get it from." The fact that she was now attributing a genetic connection between House and a rat was not lost on her. It was just talk, but it settled her to hear her thoughts said aloud. Normally they just spun around in her mind before being pushed aside to make room for more important concerns. Patients, co-workers, friends, family, House. They all ranked higher on her list of priorities than she herself.

She knew that was wrong. She'd been practically forced into therapy after Matthew's death, and her therapist had told her repeatedly that she needed to take care of herself first or she'd be useless to anyone else. The problem, of course, was that those were only words and she'd already proved them wrong. She'd been putting herself last for years, and that arrangement seemed to satisfy just about everyone. Even her.

Taking care of people, seeing other people happy, and knowing (without having to be told) that she was responsible, gave her intense satisfaction. She didn't consider it selfless or overly-altruistic. She didn't consider it much at all unless someone mentioned it to her, and then the feelings were closer to guilt. Wilson telling her she shouldn't get involved with patients. Chase teasing her. Foreman telling her to watch herself. And House. House most of all; acting as if he understood when he cornered her over a centrifuge but then crushing her for it four months later.

How could House think she wanted to fix him when it was so obvious that he thought she was the one in need of fixing? In the middle of the night, in her pitch-black, grave-silent room, she knew he was right. She wasn't broken, but she was cracked, and she'd thought that House was the one who could hold her together. A year ago she'd thought that they could hold each other together. That had been post-monster trucks and Christmas gifts and averted eyes as she resigned but pre-date-date and psycho-babble and Stacy. Cameron had given up despite the fact that sometimes she still felt a connection when he looked at her.

And now here she was, watching his rat, and she didn't know anything anymore, and she was too tired to figure it out.

"Now don't even think about trying to escape," Cameron admonished as she raised her hand to the locked door.

Steve had no such ideas. He was much too interested in the food that was fast approaching. Cameron reached in and dumped a cup of food into his little clay dish, and then rustled around in the bag for the treat food. Steve was clearly used to the routine, because he ignored the plain food and stood by the door with his nose halfway out and sniffing towards Cameron's hand as she brought a scoop full of less-than-nutritional seeds and fruits and artificially colored pellets. Once that was in the dish, the rat immediately set upon it as if he hadn't eaten for a week. Cameron stroked his back gently a few times and then withdrew her hand, glad to see him content. 

Outside, the sun was still shining brightly, but a harsh wind blew errant snowflakes from the trees, making it look almost as if it was still snowing. That same snow muffled the sounds of the few passing cars, and the fewer passing footsteps. Once more, Cameron was grateful for Steve's company. Aside from his presence, at that moment she felt utterly alone on the planet. That feeling was one she'd had many times before, and while sometimes she reveled in her solitude others had her retreating for the kitchen for a glass of wine and a hope that sleep would come quickly. She had an idea that without Steve, this time would have been the latter, and it was entirely too early to drink.

The sound of Steve running around in his little wheel followed Cameron down the hallway to her bathroom. Soon lime and verbena scented the steam-filled air and she stayed beneath the pounding spray much longer than usual. The water trickled down over her closed eyes and sluiced off her body carrying away her tension if not her cares. She rolled her shoulders experimentally, glad to feel them looser than they'd been in a week. If standing in the shower all day had been a possibility, she would have jumped at it, but unfortunately she could already feel her fingers beginning to prune, and the steam was beginning to make her feel light-headed. She'd never been so sensitive to it before, but her medication brought with it a half-dozen side effects that she tried hard to ignore. Dizziness was one of the least of them.

The pipes clunked in their usual hollow rhythm as she shut off the water, and the shower curtain sounded like dull chimes as she pushed it back and grabbed her towel. She was humming to herself as she entered her bedroom and pulled worn jeans and an oversized sweater from her dresser drawers. She had planned on running errands and cleaning the apartment, but had instead decided to spend the day lounging on the sofa with a book and a cup of tea instead.

By the time she wandered back into the kitchen, it was closer to lunch than breakfast, so she made a sandwich, along with her tea, and carried it all to the living room. Steve was curled up and enjoying an early afternoon nap. Cameron decided not to take any chances and added another book to the stack already on top of his cage. She curled herself up on the sofa and was finished eating and ten pages into her book when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Steve napping?"

Cameron didn't want to smile, but she did anyway. "Yes. Out like a light. You guys make another pit-stop?" She was shocked that he was calling, but she wasn't sorry to hear his voice.

"Yeah. Wilson's got a bladder the size of a pin." He wouldn't tell her that he needed to stop every couple of hours to stretch his leg.

"So, are you planning on calling every few hours? I got less check-ins when I babysat infants."

"Well, what is there to taking care of an infant? If it cries, you feed one end or wipe the other. Steve is much more complex."

Eyeing the rat in question, Cameron had to agree, but she wasn't about to tell House that. Steve McQueen's little adventure would remain just between the two of them.

"How are the roads?" she asked, to have something to say.

"Fine, and I'm pretty sure this SUV can just run over any cars that get in our way. We may have to enter it into the vaulting competition when we get up there."

"Those are pretty cool," Cameron said, voice low as she remembered a warm fall night and the smell of diesel, popcorn and cotton candy.

"Yeah," House said and it sounded like he was remembering the same thing.

"Did you really just call to check on your rat?" Cameron asked, her voice still soft, but edged with a mix of hope and wariness.

"Of course," House replied, but after a breathless silence, he continued, gruffly, "Wilson said you're having some bad reactions to your meds."

Cameron held the phone tighter and pulled her knees to her chest. Yes, she had mentioned it to Dr. Wilson. She had wanted his advice and although HIV wasn't exactly his specialty, he did know a lot about the side effects of powerful drugs. She didn't know if she'd expected him to share that information with House or not. Maybe she had secretly hoped that he would.

"A few. It's no big deal," she told him, her stockinged feet digging into the sofa cushion.

"Right."

"I… You… Thanks for asking," and the gratitude was real.

House was quiet for a minute. "I should have asked earlier," he said, and then, "Here comes Jimmy now. I'll call tomorrow."

He hung up before Cameron could say anything else but she held the phone for a few seconds longer, listening to the dial tone and then set it back on the table. She picked up her tea and took a long sip, but she was already feeling warmer before it ever crossed her lips.


	4. Chapter 4

_One more chapter after this should wrap it up. I'd hoped to have it done before Christmas, but unfortunately that may not be possible. I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter. Let me know what you think! _

**Chapter 4**

Cameron spent most of the afternoon reading, and she then dozed off for a couple of hours with her book splayed across her chest. She knew that she'd been tired, but hadn't realized just how tired until she woke up and the room was half-dark with a grey twilight reaching into every corner. She rubbed her hand across her eyes, feeling the disorientation that always accompanied a nap. Her head felt heavy and it ached; just a dull thudding behind her eyes. Propping herself up on her elbows, the first thing she looked at was Steve's cage.

He was staring at her from the top ledge, the last bit of daylight glinting off his black eyes.

Reaching over her head, Cameron switched on the light and then squinted, noting with amusement that Steve seemed to be doing the same. She swung her legs off the sofa, barely noticing when her book softly thudded to the carpet. A quick, slightly stumbling trip to the bathroom for painkillers and then she was back and dropping onto the sofa again.

Steve was chewing alternately on the bars of his cage and staring at her. Apparently he thought she spoke rat. Luckily, he wasn't far wrong.

"What is it? You can't be hungry. Your bowl is still full. Don't tell me you want to come out again, because that's not going to happen."

The chewing stopped and he stared at her long and hard before starting up again. Cameron rolled her eyes. House hadn't given her any instructions about whether or not the rat was allowed out or how often or how well trained he was. Steve hadn't had a problem with her holding him, and he had crawled up her shoulder, but she still wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of letting him out and then having to chase him all over the apartment if he decided to bolt.

Steve started digging in his bedding, tossing it everywhere while continuing to rattle ivory hard little teeth along the black metal bars.

"Oh fine!" Cameron exclaimed. "But if you even think about running away, I'll string you up by your little naked tail."

She pulled back the lock and opened the door, reaching in slowly to pluck Steve off the floor of his cage. She didn't even get a chance to grab him before he was scampering onto her hand, and up her wrist and forearm. She instinctively pulled her arm back and close to her chest, and Steve wandered up her arm, crawled across her chest, sniffed her neck and then settled down on her shoulder, with his head under her hair.

"Comfortable?" Cameron asked sarcastically as she leaned back, keeping her hands at the ready to grab him should he decide to make a break for it.

After nibbling a few strands of hair, Steve skittered across the back of Cameron's neck and down her other shoulder until his head was resting somewhere in the vicinity of her right breast.

"Men," Cameron scoffed, rolling her eyes. "That something else you learned from your father? Of course you're showing a lot more interest than he usually does."

Steve had an uncanny knack for looking as if he understood every word, and he cocked his head and stared into Cameron's face. Then he made a bee-line for her collar and attempted to scramble down the front of her shirt. Cameron thought she was a pretty cool rat-sitter, but she had to draw the line somewhere. That line was her neckline.

She grabbed hold of Steve's plump body just before he made good on his quest to see what color her bra was. Luckily he didn't seem too upset about being thwarted, and was quite calm as she held him up to her face and scrunched her eyebrows together in an attempt to look stern.

"Bad rat. No peeking!" she told him before placing him back on her shoulder.

Seeming to decide that it was better not to tempt fate and wind up back in his cage, Steve settled in with his body beneath the fall of Cameron's hair, and his head sticking out just below her jawline. Cameron stifled her giggles as his whiskers tickled her neck, and reached for the television remote control.

Two hours later, and Cameron had watched one movie, made dinner, and was in the middle of another movie, with Steve perched on her shoulder nearly the entire time. She was guessing that he just liked the smell of her shampoo. The fact that she was idly feeding him bits of popcorn from the bowl resting on her lap, probably had something to do with his affections as well.

She tried not to give House a second thought, but of course that was rather difficult with his rat leaving track marks along the delicate skin of her shoulders and neck. Eventually she gave up on the attempt and put another movie in instead.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when the phone rang. It was only the third call she'd received all day.

"Steve's fine," she said as she answered it. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

There was silence on the other end of the line for a second and for an instant Cameron considered that perhaps she was wrong about the identity of her caller.

"We just got back to our hotel and I wanted to check in," he didn't actually specify who he was checking in on. "So he's tucked in bed?" House's rough voice sounded just a bit taken aback. It also sounded like he'd spent the last few hours shouting at the top of his lungs and surrounded by fumes and dust.

"Not quite. Since it's not a school night, I decided to let him stay up and watch tv. I hope that's okay, Mr. House," Cameron answered in her best school-girl voice.

"That's Dr. House to you."

"Right," she answered with a snicker. "Sorry about that."

He was quiet again, and Cameron wondered if she'd overstepped. It was possible that the two glasses of wine had made her a bit more uninhibited than usual. Then again, she wasn't really sorry. Maybe a push was what he needed. He kept calling her with the pretext of asking about Steve, but kept saying things that had nothing to do with him. She was tired, physically and emotionally, and just wanted to cut to the chase this time. If he had something to say, then let him say it.

"So he's been behaving," House said finally, and Cameron sighed and wondered how many exchanges it would take this time before the conversation veered away from the rat.

"Good as gold," she reported. "We're watching a movie."

"What?"

"The Great Escape."

His laughter was unexpectedly loud and strong, and Cameron chuckled a bit herself, feeling her fingers tingle and wishing that his laugh didn't have such an effect on her.

"How were the trucks?" she asked, after he fell silent.

"Good. Big and loud, just how I like 'em."

She smiled. "Gravedigger there?"

"Oh yeah, in all its glory."

"Maybe you can get an autograph tomorrow," she said, lightly sarcastic.

"If you're lucky, I'll bring one back for you too," he replied, equally snarky.

They were both quiet, listening to one another breathe. Steve's tail swept along Cameron's collarbone as the rat shifted to her other shoulder.

"House… why are you really calling?" She cursed herself as soon as the words were out. Putting him on the spot never worked! When would she learn that? But on the other hand, was she just supposed to wait forever for him to get to the point?

"You had a good time at the last rally," House said, seeming to ignore her question.

"Yeah," Cameron replied tiredly.

"Stacy hated them."

"Oh." It wasn't a question, just a statement, and Cameron managed to keep the surprise out of her voice.

"She didn't even like it when I went with Wilson."

"Well… you know--"

"Don't try to play Little Miss Understanding," House snapped.

"Fine, then what do you want me to do? What do you want from me?" Cameron snapped back.

She was surprised when he answered softly, "I don't know."

"Oh," she said, equally softly.

"I was wrong. I'm not what you need."

"No, probably not," she said realistically.

"But for some fucked up reason, I'm what you want."

She didn't answer.

"Steve should be in bed. So should you."

"I'm not a child."

"I know that."

"I'm sure you and Wilson have a busy day planned tomorrow. You should be the one in bed."

"Just as soon as I finish off the mini-bar," House was only half-joking.

"Save a little for breakfast."

"Ha." That dry little word that told her he actually thought she'd made a clever remark.

"Good night House."

"I don't apologize," he said suddenly.

She sighed, but it was more peaceful than resigned. "I know you don't. It's not your style," but she could read between the lines better than most after a lifetime of anticipating everyone else's needs.

"Good night, Cameron. Give Steve a kiss from me." He hung up quickly, before Cameron had a chance to reply. He was getting very good at that.

Her free hand moved up to stroke the top of Steve's head, and when he nuzzled at her fingertips she smiled. She was still smiling when she put him to bed, and that smile didn't leave until she was snuggled under her own covers and half-way to sleep.

* * *

The first thing Cameron noticed when she woke up was a rustling, clicking sound. She rolled over and grinned at the ceiling. Steve was running around in his wheel. Reluctantly, she forced the grin from her face. Clearly, she was getting far too attached to the creature. She was almost beginning to consider getting herself a pet after Steve went home.

Green light emanated dimly from her alarm clock. It was only six-fifteen and the clouds outside kept her room nearly dark. With a stretch and a yawn, Cameron rolled over again and grabbed her pillow, pulling it close to her body and studiously avoiding any comparisons between it and a human being.

She didn't get out of bed until eight-thirty. She'd tried to sleep later, telling herself that she deserved a nice long rest, but her body was too used to its routine, and even eight-thirty felt late. Slippered feet scuffed along the carpet as she made her way into the living room. Steve was busy gnawing on a thick cardboard tube and seemed happy enough. He paused long enough to look at her and she gave a little wave, feeling immediately foolish, and then retreated to the bathroom.

By nine o'clock, she was showered and dressed, Steve was fed, and she was nibbling on half a bagel, poking the occasional crumb through the bars of Steve's cage and into his waiting paws. The television was on and tuned to the morning newscast. Nothing much of interest had happened during the night, but there was a short human interest story about the monster truck rally. She smiled at the sight of a stadium full of people screaming and cheering, and imagined that she saw a cane waving in the air in one of the box seats.

It was ten when the phone rang for the first time.

"Sleep well?" This time she was the one asking him.

"Well enough."

"Well, you don't sound hung over, so I guess you didn't completely drain the mini-bar."

"Nah. You know how much they charge for those little bottles? Now, if Wilson was paying for my room, that'd be another story."

"What's the itinerary for today?"

"We've got passes to go back to the stadium and check out all the trucks before they load up and head to the next show."

"Sounds like fun." It really did, and Cameron was also surprised that House hadn't mentioned Steve yet. It was almost as though they were just a normal couple of friends having a normal conversation.

"Should be. What's the weather like down there?" An odd question for him to ask, and he sounded awkward asking it, as if he couldn't think of anything better to say, but didn't want to hang up.

"Overcast, but warmer than yesterday I think."

"That's good. Steve hates the cold and I haven't had time to knit him any little sweaters." Ah, there it was.

"He seems cozy enough right now. He's made himself about half his normal size and is squeezed into that blue tube of his."

"Yeah, he likes that thing."

Cameron chuckled a little under her breath, finding it amusing that House actually knew which toys the rat preferred.

"You guys still heading back today or do I have to think of some excuse to tell Dr. Cuddy?"

"You'd suck at lying to her, so we'll be coming back today," House informed her, with a hint of snark, but mostly just good-natured humor. "It'll probably be late, though. You don't have to worry about bringing Steve over. We'll straighten it out tomorrow."

It was with no small amount of surprise that Cameron actually heard the tiniest thread of insincerity in House's voice. He really did miss that silly little creature!

"It's no trouble," Cameron answered, without even thinking. "Just call me when you're back, and I'll come over. Not like I have some big date planned for tonight." Well, that was more information than she'd planned on revealing, but too late to do anything about it now.

"Yeah." House was muttering now, as if he knew he'd been discovered having an undesirable soft spot. "I'll think about it. If you don't hear from me, don't be surprised."

"Right."

She expected House to hang up immediately, and was surprised when he spoke again.

"How's your head this morning?"

"My head?" It was aching a bit, as usual, but the fact that House was the one asking about it threw her off balance.

"Your meds. They've been causing headaches. Dizziness too."

"I didn't tell Dr. Wilson that," Cameron said quietly.

"I know you didn't. Doesn't mean it's not true."

Cameron took a deep breath before speaking. "It hurts a little. No big deal."

"Tomorrow I'll give you something that'll counteract some of the side effects."

"I'm fine. Really, I don't need anything."

"What you don't need is to suffer in silence," House said, his voice a bit sharper, or maybe it was just the change back to normal after sounding so uncharacteristically caring. From soft to snappish in under a second. Yet he still sounded different than usual, or at least different than he had in the past two weeks with his callous one-liners and abject references. He'd sounded different since Thursday. "I'll call you later," he said, without taking a breath between sentences.

And this time he did hang up, as expected, and Cameron was left staring at her phone and wondering if she would ever understand him.


	5. Chapter 5

_Ahh, and here we come to the end of another story. I really enjoyed writing it and I'm glad that it seems that some other people have enjoyed reading it. Please leave comments and criticism and let me know if the ending meets with your approval! _

**Chapter 5**

After the phone call from House, Cameron felt the sudden need to get out of the apartment for a while. She couldn't explain her reasons, if asked, but they had to do with a need to keep busy with something that had nothing to do with the man whose rat she was currently watching. The weather was still cloudy, but she didn't think it would snow again. It was too warm for that. She grabbed her coat, added another book to the stack on top of Steve's cage, and headed out.

Two hours and she'd hit the dry cleaners, the grocery store, the video store and the pet store. She'd managed to avoid thinking about Steve and House for approximately half the time and by the time she'd hit the pet store, she'd given up. She bought clips to hold Steve's cage closed, and couldn't resist a little plastic ball that was meant to be stuffed with treats.

She entered her apartment calling out Steve's name, and smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead an instant later. Then she shrugged out of her coat and gave up again.

"Hey there, Steve. Lonely while I was gone?" she asked, approaching the furry creature who yawned and stretched in such a way that Cameron was forced to contain a girly giggle or slap herself again.

There was definitely something about having him in her living room that made the entire apartment feel warmer and friendlier. Possibly it was the fact that she'd rarely had any human friends occupying the same space. Foreman and Chase had both started out assuming that she had a constant stream of friends and lovers in and out of her life. Foreman had been the first to figure out how wrong he was. Chase had taken a bit longer. Neither of them asked about her weekends anymore.

Following a familiar pattern, Cameron draped her laundry over the sofa and lugged the grocery bags into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned, grabbed the clothes, stripped off the cheap plastic wrap, and toted them into the bedroom. She usually transferred everything from the sharp wire hangers onto the perfectly matched plastic ones that hung on the rack, but this time she just shoved everything into the far end of the closet. She'd fix them later.

Steve was racing around his cage when she returned to the living room, and she found herself smiling despite herself. It was tough to be morose in the face of such clear affection.

"You want to come out?" she asked, and opened the cage without getting an answer.

Five seconds later and Steve had climbed up her arm and onto her shoulder. Apparently he expected a repeat of the previous afternoon's movie watching and popcorn snacking. Cameron saw no reason to deny him and popped in a DVD. This time it wasn't anything starring his namesake, but instead a collection of old British sitcoms.

With Steve still perched on her shoulder, she went about making popcorn, grabbing a bottle of water and snagging a handful of peanuts, one of which was immediately given to her furry neck warmer. It was almost three by the time she turned on the television and she wondered when House would call. She didn't have long to wait.

At five past four, the phone rang. She picked it up on the second ring.

"On the road yet?" she asked, not even bothering to ask who it was.

As before, he seemed a bit taken aback by the fact that she apparently found him so predictable. Strangely, it didn't occur to him that he was her only caller and so she had no reason to expect anyone else.

"Yeah. We just stopped for gas. Should be back late in the evening."

Cameron nodded and gave Steve a piece of popcorn to distract him from nibbling at the phone. "Okay. I'll have him ready to go whenever you call."

There was a pause where he seemed to be thinking. "You don't have to be so accommodating. You can just drop him off tomorrow before work."

"It's not a big deal," she replied. "Really."

"You'd give your right arm to someone in need and say it wasn't a big deal," House snarked.

"Very funny," Cameron said without laughing. "Maybe I just can't wait to get him out of my apartment," she countered his argument.

"Not a chance. Steve is very loveable, and a definite lady's man."

Cameron gave a short laugh. "Fine, you've got me there."

"Ha! Of course I do."

Blue-gray eyes rolled and Cameron glanced at the wall in exasperation, wishing House could see her expression.

"So you'll call when you get in?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll call. Should be by nine at the latest. Wilson drives like a man possessed."

"I think you're talking about yourself. Wilson drives a Volvo and I bet he goes five to ten miles over the speed limit. Tops."

"Usually, yes, but he's just spent forty-eight hours in my company. Even his wife is starting to look good by comparison."

This time Cameron really did laugh, and was startled to hear a low chuckle coming from House as well. Real laughter coming from him was something she'd rarely heard. In fact, she tried to remember if she had ever heard it at all.

"Okay. Well then… I guess I'll talk to you later," she said, suddenly feeling awkward, as if she'd just walked in on a private moment--except that the private moment was actually between the two of them.

"Yeah," House replied, back to his normal monotone. "Later." He hung up without saying good-bye, which was no longer a surprise.

Between television, reading, rat-petting and some light cleaning, Cameron kept herself busy for the rest of the day and evening. She had to remind herself to eat something for dinner, and settled on stir-fried chicken and vegetables. Steve watched her through the doorway as she cooked and made squeaking sounds of approval. He was down for another nap by the time she finished cooking, and so she ate silently with a book in her lap and a cup of tea beside her on the coffee table.

It was with a slight feeling of melancholy that she started gathering up Steve's things after she cleaned the kitchen. It was absolutely ridiculous that she should miss a rat she'd only known for three days, and yet she had a feeling the apartment would seem twice as lonely with him gone. Food, treat and travel cage went into the car and then she picked up her book again and waited for House's call.

That call came at slightly past nine o'clock. Cameron was nearly finished with her book, and she reminded herself for the hundredth time never to buy something that had been recommended by Oprah. They always left her weepy and this time was no exception. When the phone rang she answered it with a small sniffle as she closed her book and slid it onto the sidetable.

"Cameron?"

"Yes. I guess you must be home." Cameron sniffled again and rubbed at her nose.

"Yeah. Just got in. But you don't need to come over. Sounds like you'd be better off in bed." House's voice carried a dose of snideness, but also an unexpected concern.

Cameron's brows drew together as she tried to understand what would have brought that on, and then she sniffled again and realized the source of his uncharacteristic kindness.

"No, I'll come over. I was just reading something sad. I'm fine."

House's normal sarcasm came back stronger than ever in order to cover his previous sentimentality. "Leave it to you to depress yourself with books when life already sucks."

"Yeah, that's me all right," Cameron replied testily. "Now, do you want your rat back, or not?"

"Well, since you're so eager to get rid of him, yes. No telling if you'll suddenly break out the rat poison in the middle of the night."

"Right. I'm a cold-blooded killer at heart, you know."

"I always suspected as much," House snapped.

This exchange was much more barbed than previous conversations had been and Cameron wanted to take back half of her words and go back to how they'd spoken to each other that morning, but she didn't know how. She sighed and held the phone loosely in her hand.

"I'll be over in twenty minutes, okay?" she said, feeling suddenly defeated. Obviously the semi-normalcy between them was drawing to a close, along with the weekend.

"I'll be here," House told her.

"Good," she answered, and this time she was the one to hang up first.

Steve had been roused from his nap by the sound of Cameron's voice, and he scampered up his ramps to the top shelf and poked his nose through the bars as he looked up at her.

"Time to go home," Cameron told him, leaning over to pick up the cage. "Your father's home."

Lugging the cage down to her car was more difficult than lugging it up, but she managed to get it situated inside and made comforting shushing noises to the rat when he started tearing around the bottom of the cage.

"Don't worry. It's a short trip. Remember?" she said, unable to stop herself from talking to him despite how silly she knew it was.

The only evidence of the previous day's snow was slightly dirty drifts along the sides of the road and Cameron made her way easily through the darkened streets towards House's townhouse. Traffic was light and she arrived sooner than expected and sat in her car staring up at the yellow light coming from House's front window. Her heart felt like it was thumping in an odd rhythm and her stomach tightened. Why did this have to be so hard? She felt that giving up Steve was giving up whatever tenuous connection she had with the man she was trying so hard not to care about.

"Looks like we're here," she announced over her shoulder.

Steve squeaked softly but remained tucked inside one of his tunnels.

There was no traffic on the street, and the sounds of Cameron's door opening along with the sound of her shoes upon the sand-strewn asphalt seemed preternaturally loud in her ears. She wished another car would drive by, but it was Sunday, and most people were already home for the night.

"C'mon," she said as she slipped her arm through the handles of Steve's bag of food and tugged his cage out of her car. She closed the door with one swing of her hips and crossed the street to House's front door.

Pale light spilled out onto the landing as soon as she set foot on it. House stood there with the door open, and Cameron wondered if he'd seen her sitting in her car.

"Here he is, safe and sound," she said, with attempted cheerfulness.

"Hmm. I'll be the judge of that," House said as he took the cage from her and limped heavily into the living room, cane hooked over his forearm.

He set Steve's cage back on its stand and poked a thick finger in through the cage bars.

"She treat you all right?" he asked. "Or was she poking you with sticks all weekend?"

"Ha, ha." Cameron said, smirk firmly in place.

House stood up and faced Cameron for the first time, his eyes sliding quickly off her face and down to the floor. He shoved one hand in his pocket and fished out a crumpled wad of money.

"I'll have to owe you half," he said as he held out the cash. "Beer and pretzels aren't cheap when they have a monster truck label attached."

Cameron took the money, feeling like it was coming from the allowance of a twelve-year-old boy. "I guess you're probably good for it," she said with a slight flash in her eyes.

House looked up and met them, holding her gaze for a few seconds longer than usual. "Yeah, that's what Wilson always says. Sucker," he said with a broad grin. "Don't worry though, the promised Chase torture will proceed on schedule."

"As if that was even in question," Cameron teased. "The real payment would be getting you to stop riding him so hard."

House cocked his head and stared at her face intently. "Is that what you want?" It was a challenge. Do you want me to play nice with him? Are you that attached to him? You want him to be happy?

"Nah. That'd just be strange," she replied.

With a little har-umph of a sigh, House started limping back towards the door at the same time Steve started tearing around his cage.

Cameron knew that House expected her to beat a hasty retreat, but she faltered and failed to move in his direction. Instead she pointed at the fast-moving rodent. "He wants to come out."

Glancing over his shoulder, House nodded in agreement. "Yeah. He's not great about that yet."

"Sure he is," Cameron insisted, walking deeper into the living room instead of towards the door. She unlocked Steve's cage and he scittered up her arm and under her hair. "See? Good as gold."

House tried his best not to look impressed.

"Yeah, you probably rubbed cheese behind your ears."

With head bent, Cameron looked at him through her lashes, expression bordering on exasperation. "Yeah, because impressing you with my rat training skills was always my big plan," she said dryly.

"I wouldn't doubt it," House responded as he moved closer and held out his hand, looking stupidly pleased when Steve crawled onto it and then up onto his shoulder.

Cameron looked at the two of them somewhat wistfully. This was ridiculous. She had to go. Right now. If not sooner.

"Yeah. Okay, I should go," Cameron said in a rush. She reached out a delicate hand and gave Steve a light pat on the head. "I'll… I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right. Bright and early. Don't be late," House told her as she let herself out.

She turned and pinned him with her gaze. "I'm never late," she said, and then hurried out the door. She didn't look up at House's window again, and she therefore didn't see a man with a rat peering out a window at her speeding car.

Back at her own apartment, things seemed not only quieter, but colder as well. She quickly stripped off her clothes, pulled on fleece pajamas and slipped into bed. It was too early for her to be tired, but she laid there in the dark anyway, watching the changing shadow-patterns thrown across her ceiling by the moon. Her eyes were bright, even in the moonlight, and it took a long time for them to drift closed as she subconsciously waited for a phone that wasn't going to ring anymore.

* * *

Cameron had to drag herself out of bed the next morning, despite the bright sunshine pooling on her bed and drenching her room in light. Her head was pounding by the time she got out of the shower and she pinched her temples with thumb and forefinger before downing her small palm-full of medications and gulping down water to ease the process.

Not quite half an hour later--but still five minutes late--she was walking through the lobby of PPTH, her hair pulled back neatly, light makeup perfectly applied, pantsuit pressed and professional looking. Only the slight tightness around lips and eyes gave away the fact that she wasn't feeling her best. She didn't want to admit to herself that the lack of soft scurrying sounds in the night had contributed to her insomnia during the night and dejected mood since waking. She clutched her computer case a fraction tighter and cursed herself for being so damn sentimental and hopeful when House was right; life sucked.

As she passed by the clinic she caught a bit of a conversation between two nurses. It sounded like House was already at work, and terrorizing patients. That was a first. Usually Cuddy couldn't bribe him into fulfilling his duties there until at least ten or eleven. She must have snagged him when he went to get coffee at the cafeteria. No doubt she'd hear something from him about how her tardiness (and therefore her lack of coffee making) had cost him valuable Gameboy time. He would, once again, conveniently ignore the fact that she was usually at least half an hour early while he was generally fifteen to twenty minutes late.

Foreman passed her in the hall and called out that their new patient was on the way. He was on his way to the lab to check on the boy's blood work. Chase was in the conference room, feet up, doing a crossword puzzle.

"You're late today," he commented, as she hurried in, taking her coat off as she walked to the coat rack.

"Thanks for stating the obvious," she replied, surprised at her own bitterness.

"Whoa there! House already bit my head off once this morning. I was just making conversation. You okay?" He seemed genuinely concerned and Cameron sighed.

"Fine," she told him. "Just a bad morning."

"Well grab some coffee and drink it fast. New patient coming up and like I said, House is on a tear, as usual."

Cameron filled her mug, added cream and took a sip, smiling just a bit at Chase's assessment, and remembering House's promise. She doubted that the two had anything to do with each other, but she still found it amusing. She walked to her desk while Chase gathered his files and headed out, probably to join Foreman in the lab. When she pulled her chair back, the usual light clattering of its wheels was accompanied by the more hollow clattering of pills in a bottle.

Rolling around on her seat was a prescription bottle. Cameron picked it up and read the label, seeing her name, an Rx for a drug she'd only heard of a few times, and Dr. Gregory House's name typed neatly under 'Prescribing Physician'. The warmth in her chest was entirely out of proportion to the gesture, or at least it would have been if Gregory House had been any other man.

She hadn't taken her usual ibuprofen yet, so she took the new medication instead, following it with a swallow of terribly brewed coffee. She really needed to get to the hospital earlier if only to keep Chase away from the coffeemaker.

The rest of the day passed with a sort of unpredictability that they had all come to accept as actually quite predictable. The patient was brought to their ward, and while Cameron, Chase and Foreman dealt with him and his family, House spent much of his time in his office surrounded by books, iPod firmly in place. As new symptoms appeared, more meetings were called, more tests run, and more drugs prescribed. Thankfully for all involved, the boy never worsened to the state many of the patients wound up in, but the drugs didn't seem to be helping much either. Unfortunately, it would take time to know if both their diagnosis and their treatment were correct.

Foreman had drawn the short straw and would stay at the hospital overnight and monitor the boy while the rest of them went home and hoped that they wouldn't be paged back to the ward. Often in such circumstances, House would hang around a bit later than his usual five o'clock, but tonight he left right on time. Cameron passed his darkened office on the way to her desk and sighed. He'd barely said five words to her all day and they'd all had to do with their patient.

She noticed that Chase's coat was gone as she grabbed her own from the hanger. He never wasted time when it came to leaving. Her computer was still on, the screensaver bouncing random streaks of light across a blackened background. She bent to get her case and frowned slightly at weight it already contained.

Opening it up revealed a miniature truck, made to be identical to the Grave Digger truck she and House had seen together. There was no note, but tucked into the truck-bed was twenty-five dollars. Cameron held the truck and smiled, wondering if he'd had the money all along. She would never ask.

She packed up her computer and pulled an empty bag from her desk, using it to carry the truck. She wanted to leave it on her desk, but she had a feeling House wouldn't be too happy if she did. Too many questions he didn't want to answer, from her or anyone else. It didn't matter really matter anyway because she didn't think she wanted to answer them either.

The hospital was still quite busy as she stepped into the elevator, and she was patient even though it stopped on every floor on the way down. When Dr. Wilson got on she nodded and gave him a little smile.

"Dr. Wilson," she said, somewhat formally. "I hear you had a good weekend."

Wilson raised one eyebrow and chuckled. He was still a little surprised that House had asked her to watch his furry plague-bearer and he was more surprised by the few slips House had made over the weekend.

"Yeah. Pretty good. That rat behave himself for you?"

Cameron smiled again and relaxed a bit. "Perfect angel. Well, aside from escaping once, but don't tell House that."

"My lips are sealed," Wilson promised, and Cameron knew he would keep it.

The elevator stopped at the lobby and both of them got out and headed towards the garage.

"I'll actually miss the little guy," she admitted, glancing down at her bag and thinking that even a present from House was a poor substitute for the bit of company Steve had provided.

"Judging by how often House checked in, I'm guessing he missed the furball too… of course I suppose he might have been calling for other reasons." Wilson wasn't quite looking at her, instead finding the tile floor to be quite fascinating.

Cameron fumbled around for some words that didn't betray her disbelief but couldn't come up with any. "I didn't think--"

"He left his cell phone at home and had to use mine. It shows the last numbers that were dialed."

"Oh," Cameron said, still feeling blindsided. "I still don't think it meant anything," she said lamely. "Gave him something to do, that's all," she continued, intent on keeping her own expectations low.

"You're probably right," Wilson replied and then there was an awkward pause as Cameron said nothing. Wilson glanced at her once more and then jerked his thumb to the side. "There's my car. Drive safe, Dr. Cameron," he said as he veered off to the left.

"You too," Cameron replied by rote, and gave a little wave in his general direction.

She spent her drive home convincing herself that what Wilson had said meant nothing. By the time she'd finished her little routine of changing and cleaning and cooking, she'd almost managed to achieve her goal.

If the television was turned a bit louder and a few more lights were on than usual, there was no one but Cameron to notice. She ate her dinner on the sofa, letting a mindless sitcom purge her brain of more complex thoughts. She didn't laugh once, but at least she wasn't thinking too much either.

The phone rang at eight thirty and she took a chance when she answered it saying, "Well I know you're not calling to ask about Steve."

"No. Although your motherly presence seems to have had a positive influence on him. You know a rat needs male and female role-models to grow up well-adjusted."

Cameron chuckled, but there was little mirth behind it, and instead more sadness that House only seemed to be able to relate to her through a third party, be it Wilson, Stacy or Steve. "Oh, so you've picked me to be his mom?"

"You seem to have a knack for it."

A thin smile drifted across Cameron's face before fading away. "Well, he's pretty cute. I guess I could do worse for a surrogate son."

This was the part where she expected a snappy one-liner - perhaps 'just don't take me to court for joint custody' - and then a hang-up from House. She was surprised when he stayed on the line, breathing into her ear.

"Cameron," was what he finally said, and nothing more until she felt compelled to prod.

"Yes."

"I didn't just call about the rat."

Now Cameron was silent for a moment before replying, "I sort of figured that out."

"Good. Glad to have that settled."

Now he was definitely going to hang up, but Cameron stopped him with a word. "Wait!"

"What is it?" he asked, and the time it took him to speak told her she'd been right and he'd been lowering the phone and about to hang up.

Great. She had nothing to say.

"I… just… It's been nice talking to you like this." Lame. Very lame, and she closed her eyes and pressed her fist into her forehead.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, and Cameron opened her eyes. "It has." He gave a slight cough to clear a throat that wasn't blocked, before saying, "Don't be late tomorrow."

Cameron didn't reply, expecting the quick hang-up to follow. Instead she could almost hear him thinking on the other end of the line.

"G'night," he muttered, so quickly and quietly that she might have missed it if she hadn't been concentrating on the steady in-out of his breathing.

The familiar click and dial-tone followed immediately and Cameron didn't have time to reply.

She stayed up for a while longer, watching the news, although she wouldn't have been able to repeat a single story if asked. At ten-thirty she made her round of the apartment, starting the dishwasher, turning out the lights, checking the front door. The air seemed lighter, warmer than before. She told herself that it was the promise of impending visitation with Steve, as if that reason was better than the thought that she was once more hoping that things between her and House were actually getting better.

With the steady hum of the dishwasher providing a comforting background noise, Cameron changed her clothes, got ready for bed and took her medications, including the new one House had prescribed. She had only started the new pills today, but already they seemed to make her feel better.At least the headache had disappeared by noon.

One lamp illuminated her room and she snuggled into her bed and read for a few minutes before setting aside her book and folding her glasses neatly on top of it. The room filled with darkness as she shut off the light but her chest didn't have that heaviness that had plagued it so frequently. She rolled over and let her eyes adjust to the dim moonlight casting the room in blues.

Her eyes started to drift closed, but she kept them focused for a few moments longer, looking at the small truck parked on her nightstand. Such a silly thing, but it caused a wistful smile to tilt the corners of her mouth. They'd had fun that night. Maybe they would again.


End file.
